"Why do you talk to me of independence? '
interrupted the baronet. "You and this
sizar seem to be birds of a feather; do you
know why you are not a sizar? Why not a
village schoolmaster? Why not —— ?"

But despite his self-willed fury, the patron
was shamed and checked by what he read in
the young man's eyes.

"Why not what? Why not go on, Sir
William?" said the boy, in a voice in which
contempt had quite overmastered prudence.
"Here, under my own roof; which you have
bestowed upon me."

"Brooke," said the old man generously, and
after a pause, "you have spoken truth; but
not too respectfully. Give me your hand."

"I do, sir," the other readily replied; "but
unless you comply with this request of mine,
it will be to bid you farewell." He hesitated
a moment, as if in doubt whether to
confess his sudden passionate love, and then
added: "It seems to me not unreasonable
that I should ask you, who have been so
munificent to me, what further favour you
intend to grant; I wish to have the power of
proving myself fully sensible, sir, of what I
owe to you."

The transient feeling which had prompted
his confession had quite passed away from
the baronet's mind. He was sorry for it
even, when his protégé dared thus to address
him.

"What!" he broke forth, "do you wish
me, then, to live in furnished lodgings, and
give up the hall to you?"

"I want, sir, only to be permitted the
choice of a profession, and, moreover, to have
something guaranteed me to reckon upon as
my own."

"An ambassadorship and five thousand
pounds a-year for life, perhaps. You are
very modest for an adopted son, upon my
word. What do you say, now, to my bid of
one hundred and fifty pounds a-year!"

"I say, Sir William, that I should accept
it with eagerness."

"Then, by Heaven! you shall have it, and
not a shilling more," answered the patron.
He took up his hat and gloves, and put them
on with teeth set and lips closed, suppressing
the anger that raged within him. He left the
room without another word.

             CHAPTER THE THIRD.

THERE were no candles alight that evening
in Leonard's room; for he sat at the open
window with his sister, looking out into the
moonlit night, and on the sleeping court
beneath; where the silver fountain never
ceased to plash and sing.

"I fear, dear brother, still, that I am a
heavy burthen to you; I and dear Dame
Roberts; how free you would feel, Leonard,
if you did but have your little income to
yourself, and how happy I, if I could earn
something with my hands."

"You will earn something with your
tongue, which shall not be a reward, if you
talk so," said Leonard playfully; "what
do you mean by speaking of my little income
in that disparaging way? One hundred
and fifty pounds per annum, besides my
scholarship — which, I can tell you, is an
enormous source of profit, although we are
bound to secrecy as to the exact amount—
should, I think, be enough and to spare for
us three; not to mention putting by a something
for your marriage-portion when you
have made up your mind as to the particular
nobleman."

Constance laughed a little laugh, and
blushed a little blush; but the laugh ceased
and the blush grew deeper as Dame Roberts'
voice came out to them from the room:

"That may be a nearer matter than you
think, Master Leonard; for she has fallen in
love already with a young duke or a lord, as
I believe; and, in church too, of all the places
in the world."

"Ah!" said her brother rather seriously.
"What is this young lord like, sister?"

"Nobody, Leonard; and I wonder at your
being so foolish, dame."

But the old lady was not to be so put down.
"I can't say for certain," she said, "never
having seen him myself, sir; but as he was
described to me, he is tall and dark, with
restless eyes, and beautiful curling hair."

This short description of a lover at first
sight would have been given in extenso but
for a knock at the outer door. It was a gyp
with a letter for Leonard; and, when he had
read it, he sighed, and said:

"The young gentleman in question — he
has no title — is coming to breakfast with us
to-morrow at his own invitation."

Leonard gave in to the passionate entreaty
of his friend to be introduced to Constance,
in consideration of his altered circumstances,
and of the sturdy behaviour which he believed
to have induced them. Gray was sincerely
pleased to hear of his independence, but his
hope was that, through this meeting, the
charm which seemed to have enthralled both
boy and girl would be dissolved, by each
finding out something distasteful in the
other. They were as dissimilar as any two
young beings could be; the one proud, impetuous,
and brilliant, and the other serene
and sensible.

Love, however, who takes delight in setting
at nought the calculations of the prudent,
decreed that its first impression should be
confirmed. Before the six days of
Constance's proposed visit were over, the young
couple were as good as engaged. With no
father to talk of finance, and no mother to
investigate genealogy, it was not a difficult
business. The six days were prolonged to a
fortnight.

"But, my friend," Gray said, "you must
work. I have no marriage portion worth
mentioning to give my sister."

And he was firm against Brooke Persey's